


fall in, fall out

by beanpod



Series: savin' me series [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, M/M, someone gets shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanpod/pseuds/beanpod
Summary: “I was thinking,” he starts, “I was thinking maybe we need a break.”
Relationships: Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Series: savin' me series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606792
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	fall in, fall out

**Author's Note:**

> this ran away from me, i gotta admit. was gonna post it as part of the wip series, believe it or not, but i'm adding an extra installment of this (hint, hint: roadtrips!) sooooo.

_This isn’t how things were supposed to go_ , he thinks as Minhyuk speeds up. The engine rumbles and Hoseok clutches at the lapels of Hyunwoo’s coat as he sprawls back on the seat, hands almost numb. The sky outside is a mess of purple and blue and tiniest hints of yellow. Can’t be much after 5AM.

Minhyuk has been quiet ever since they hopped on the car. Hoseok’s been quiet too but for different reasons, and his fingers itch to get a hold of his phone, get this over with once and for all, tell Kang it’s been fun and all but this is Hoseok’s patience (and something else, something he can’t quite identify) running thin, but his hands _need_ to be on Hyunwoo right now.

“It’ll be okay,” Hyunwoo mutters, voice thick with disuse, wet with blood.

“Shut up,” Hoseok gripes, and catches Minhyuk’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Kang’s got a new job for us,” Hyunwoo says as he closes the door behind him and leans against it. His hair is tousled—Kang’s probably not been in a good mood—and his face is tired, eyes soft around the edges, like if he blinks again he might fall asleep right where he is, propped against the door.

Funny thing is Hoseok’s seen it happen before. He’s pretty sure Kihyun has pictures.

“When you say it like that,” he groans from the couch under the window where he’s been napping for the last couple hours, “I feel like a whore.”

Hyunwoo smiles at this, cocky and teasing and Hoseok’s fingers itch to touch that smile, to feel it pressed against his skin. “You think highly of yourself.”

“Shut up,” Hoseok says around a chuckle, standing up and padding over to the table and scratching at his stomach under his shirt “So, what’s this job you’re yapping about, babe? Tell daddy Hoseok all about it.”

Hyunwoo fake-gags before smacking him on the shoulder.

The roof he’s taking cover at is full of empty crates and boxes and it’s dusty; it makes his throat itch a little. Hoseok holds his rifle at eye level, breathes in, then out, once more to steady his heartbeats.

After so many years of this, it’s odd how he still feels as jittery as he did the first time. He gathers himself after a moment, listens as Jungsu walks out of the strip club on drunken feet. See, it’s not even nerves about things going wrong—they rarely do. Hoseok’s nervous because, he thinks, he’s about to take a life and although his morals are in no predicament whatsoever and this guy probably has it coming, his heart still is.

 _They day it gets easy,_ Hyungwon says sometimes, _is the day I retire._ Hoseok thinks the day this starts getting easy for him is possibly the day he grabs Hyunwoo by the back of his shirt and runs away.

Another set of footsteps join Jungsu’s. When he hears them too, he turns around halfway and rasps, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.”

“I’ve actually been looking for you,” Hyunwoo says, unarmed and easy prey and with his hands held high in front of him, his voice steady, soft, neither threatening nor terrifying, just soft.

He’s better at it that Hoseok’s ever been—at everything, really.

“I said get the fuck away from me,” Jungsu snarls again, and this time he walks fully up to Hyunwoo, shoulders tense and ready to pounce.

Hyunwoo moves the only way he knows how, fast and with zero hesitation, holds his gun up, aims. Hoseok looks up too, and through the scope, it’s like their eyes meet.

And that’s when the world halts and the only sound cutting through the stillness of the night is the one of bullet sliding past skin and muscle, Hoseok’s fingers still, Hyunwoo’s even more so.

“He’s going to be okay,” Minhyuk says. He’s holding one of Hoseok’s hands in both of his, and he’s throwing nervous glances at the door of Hyunwoo’s hospital room, not precisely comforting but Hoseok still appreciates it.

He nods, numb, and only jumps slightly when Kang walks out, the doctor in tow. “He’ll be okay,” Kang says, nodding at Hoseok once and then at the man in scrubs next to him. “This is doctor Nam, he’s a friend. He’s gonna take care of Hyunwoo. You can go home, Hoseok.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hoseok replies, not even trying to be defiant, just stating the fact that he’s not moving from this spot right outside this door for the foreseeable future. (Or however long it takes Hyunwoo to regrow part of his liver, whatever.)

Hoseok is suddenly struck with the _urge_ to spit at Kang, punch him, _shoot him_ , because this is on him—Hyunwoo, a bullet to the side and a pint of blood on the pavement—that’s on him.

(Blaming him feels a lot easier than blaming himself, in part.)

“Hoseok,” Kang starts, a tired sigh curling around the word, and Hoseok’s ready, so fucking _ready_ , his fingers itching.

Minhyuk steps in, “It’s alright, boss. Let’s just go, they’re gonna be okay.”

They leave without much fuss and Hoseok drops heavily on one of the uncomfortable set of chairs right next to the door. Adrenaline settles low in his veins and he’s suddenly so tired, so damn tired, and worried, worried _sick_ , and he wants to punch something—anything, the walls, the floor, himself—

He holds his head in his hands and tells himself he’s not going to cry, he’s _not_ , because the last time he sat outside a hospital room like this one—

There’s a cough to his right.

“You, uh, you can go inside if you want. I mean, it’s completely against the rules, but.” Hoseok looks up and the doctor, whatever his name is, is looking at him with a soft expression on his face, almost sad. “Hoseok, right?” Hoseok nods, slowly. “He kept saying your name when he woke briefly earlier.”

“He did?”

The doc nods. “You have to be super quiet, though, and do not disturb him.”

Hoseok nods, stands up. “I can do that. I can do quiet.”

(Somewhere in the city, Kihyun’s right eye is probably twitching in disbelief.)

“Alright,” the doctor says, opening the door and ushering Hoseok in, and then Hoseok’s met with the blurry sight of Hyunwoo lying still on the hospital bed, pale and worse for wear, needles stuck to both his hands. Machines beep around him, loud in the quietness surrounding them, almost too loud. But they’re beeping, and that, Hoseok knows with a lump in his belly, is a good thing.

(This, he will realize later, this is the moment he breaks.)

“Shit,” he whispers. He sits on the chair a few feet away from the bed, still firmly telling himself not to dare cry, and Hyunwoo grunts, stirs a little.

“I hate hospitals,” he croaks.

Hoseok’s up in a flash, hovering over Hyunwoo’s form. “You’re awake,” he whispers.

“‘course I’m awake,” Hyunwoo murmurs. “It hurts like a bitch but Kang told’em not to put me on morphine ‘cause he doesn’t wanna deal with addicts this week.”

“What an asshole,” Hoseok says, quiet, meaning it. He touches the side of Hyunwoo’s face, his temple, his cheek. Hyunwoo tilts towards the touch, even in his haze, like a sunflower searching for light, and Hoseok’s heart beats painfully in his chest. “Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo, I’m so—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Hyunwoo sighs. He opens his eyes, blinks twice, so slow, _so slow_ , and Hoseok’s heart _aches_. “This wasn’t your fault. There’s no way we could’ve known Jungsu had his guys with him.”

And Hoseok wants to tell him _of course there was a way to know_ , but that’s a conversation for another time, possibly when Hyunwoo isn’t regrowing organs anymore and Hoseok can yell at him without feeling guilty for dragging him into this—this mess, this _life_.

Hoseok touches his cheek again, softer. “I’m just,” he sighs, searching for words. After a moment of silently staring at Hyunwoo’s lax face, the up-and-down of his chest, he says, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Hyunwoo makes a noise, too soft for Hoseok to decipher, and he’s out again.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hoseok says as he dumps the duffel bag on the table. He waits until Hyunwoo has sat down on the couch, gingerly favoring his right side as he leans back against the couch. He’s lost weight, not much but still enough for Hoseok to see the difference. At least now that he’s home Hoseok can actually feed him good food and not hospital crap.

Hyunwoo blinks an eye open at him. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

Hoseok huffs a laugh and sits on the coffee table, his knees knocking into Hyunwoo’s. “When have I ever had a bad idea?” he asks, mildly offended.

Hyunwoo rolls his eyes skyward, sighing, “Let’s see, there’s that time you thought it would be a good idea to have sex in the car and I almost cracked a rib.” He pauses, dramatic, smiling at Hoseok, “There was that other time you and Changkyun had a target shooting contest and _accidentally_ shot Kihyun in the ass. Also, remember that time with the whipped cream and the purple dildo Minhyuk got you—”

“Okay, shut up,” Hoseok groans, laughing despite the jive. “Fine, I admit, sometimes my ideas are… not good. But they’re not bad. And they weren’t even real bullets, Kihyun’s just very dramatic.”

“Okay,” Hyunwoo relents, still smiling. “Okay, what have you been thinking about?”

Hoseok falters. He looks down at Hyunwoo’s side, the dressing visible through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and doesn’t know how to go on. Hyunwoo is watching him curiously when he looks up, one corner of his mouth tilted up. It does little to help Hoseok keep track of what he wants to say, or even figure out how to say it.

“I was thinking,” he starts, “I was thinking maybe we need a break.”

Hyunwoo continues the curious staring for a bit, but then his eyes close off a little and Hoseok sighs, because he knew this would happen and he knew—

“Is this because I got shot?” Hyunwoo asks, voice flat.

Hoseok exhales. “No, Hyunwoo, it’s not because you got shot.” He’s not lying. Hyunwoo getting shot only brought this to the front of his mind a bit faster, if anything. Truth is, they’re long overdue a break. “I just think, dunno, maybe we could leave town for a few days? Visit your mom, go to the beach, something.”

At the mention of his mother, Hyunwoo looks away. He rubs at the tip of his nose with the heel of his hand, and says, “This _is_ because I got shot.”

“Hyunwoo—” Hoseok starts, but Hyunwoo rolls his eyes so hard that Hoseok is momentarily speechless.

“Look, Hoseok, I get that you were worried, but I’m fine,” he says, still flat, still not looking at Hoseok. His jaw is clenched and, despite everything, he still looks so damn beautiful and Hoseok’s so damn _weak_ for him. “I don’t need a break.”

Hoseok doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t, but it still comes out, tired, weary around the edges of his frayed sanity, _desperate_ , “But I do.”

“I thought you guys were, like, married,” Hyungwon says around a mouthful of fish cakes. “Like, went-to-the-courthouse married and all that shit.”

Hoseok laughs a little, barely there. “Seriously? That’ ain’t even legal, yet.”

Hyungwon shrugs. “You guys are always together, you live together, and even though you try to be quiet about it, your fucking is very intense. The poor bathroom in the basement… the _things_ it’s been subjected to.”

Hoseok flushes. “That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Oh, please, give me a break, I know all about ‘fucking doesn’t mean love’, been there, done that—more than once, okay? But you both are different, aren’t you,” Hyungwon rolls his eyes. He pays for their food and they start walking down the street. “You know, it’s okay to need a break from time to time. From the job, from each other, it’s _alright_ , Hoseok. Doesn’t mean you care about him any less. It’s okay to care about yourself, too.”

It’s hot enough outside that they’re wearing short-sleeved t-shirts, and Hoseok misses the comfort of winter and having a place where to stuff his hands into. He’s never known what to do with them when he walks. Nights are getting so hot, so _humid_ , and Hoseok hates it with a burning passion to match.

He licks his lips and shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t see any leave time in the contract I signed.”

Hyungwon laughs, throwing his head back. “Alright, fucker, let’s play it your way. So, you told Hyunwoo you guys should take a break and he bit your head off. Take the break without him, it’s not like it’s unheard of, you know?” At Hoseok’s confused look, he says, “Look, let’s sit down for a bit.”

There’s literally nowhere to do that, Hoseok wants to point out. He still finds himself pulled over to the end of the sidewalk, and Hyungwon sits down without much ceremony, barely checking for trash or piss stains, which Hoseok does because these are nice jeans, damn it.

“Come on, sit down, I haven’t got all night,” Hyungwon bites, and Hoseok sighs, sitting down next to him, a foot separating them. Hyungwon nods, “Okay, listen. I know you and Hyunwoo are, like, best friends with best benefits. Like, I know, everyone at the bar knows, hell, I’m sure half the peninsula knows. Whatever.” He pokes the insole of his Chucks, there’s a hole there and his socks are peaking through. It’s quite endearing, Hoseok thinks.

“But,” Hyungwon continues, and here he hesitates a little, “is that all you are? Are you guys _together_? Exclusively together? Are you guys in a relationship? Have you stopped to think about that sometime in the past—how long has it been?—a hundred years?”

Hoseok feels suddenly cold. He raises his knees and holds them close to his chest, slightly awkward on the tiny step of the sidewalk, and says nothing. Hyungwon doesn’t prompt him to, he just sits there, stretching the hole in his sneakers, waiting him out as he chews on his food.

So, Hoseok thinks. He thinks of the past six years of their life, their life _together_ , in their hole-in-the-wall apartment with its leaky faucet and the room that used to be Hoseok’s but serves more as storage now because after the first couple of years, sleeping on the same bed felt much better.

Hoseok thinks about that, too—the kissing, the fucking, wonders if it happened because it was convenient, because it _felt_ convenient, or because of something else. He wonders if the fact they haven’t moved out of there, haven’t looked for a bigger place (because truth is, they can afford it now) means something.

The thing is, Hoseok _loves_ him. So much. Has been doing it for so long it’s kind of like looking through foggy glass and listening through running water, when he thinks of a time when he _didn’t_. It’s weird, because Hoseok _says_ it, tells Hyunwoo he loves him almost on a daily basis, most of them not even related to sex. Hyunwoo does, too, not as often, not as explicitly, but in his own quiet, soft way.

But Hoseok’s not sure what _kind_ of love it is, doesn’t have anything to compare it to to spot differences; nothing comes close to this, to _him_ , to anything.

“I don’t know what we are,” he says at last, taking a deep breath. He holds for five, lets go. “At first it was, you know, just that. But I love him, and I know he loves me, too. I just don’t know—I just don’t know if it’s the same, for each other. You know?”

Hyungwon sighs, nods a little, the tilt of his mouth sort of sad. “Yeah, I do.” He sighs, pats Hoseok’s knee. “Cut him some slack, too, yeah? Getting shot messes with your head. You might think he’s pissed ‘cause he can’t work anymore but it’s—it’s more than that, okay? Just,” he sighs again, softer this time, “just be there for him.”

That Hoseok can do.

Hoseok doesn’t really have _jobs_. He’s good with a rifle because he’s learned how to be, but there aren’t many gigs that require that lately. So, mostly, he just serves as back-up, which is not even that common, either. Hyunwoo’s the one who really gets the jobs, efficient as he is, deadly in a way Hoseok’s never been, or gotten used to. (And never will.)

He’s not—he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. But sometimes, when he’s loose-limbed with sleep and Hyunwoo’s huffing in his sleep next to him, Hoseok thinks that although they stumbled into this life by accident ( _Hoseok’s_ accident, okay), Hyunwoo wears it all too well whereas Hoseok still flounders, still hesitates from time to time.

Hyunwoo never hesitates, he gets the job _done_.

It’s been two months since Hyunwoo got shot. It’s been two and half weeks since their talk in the living room and Hoseok’s found that sort of everything has changed.

(They aren’t having sex. It’s—Hoseok tells himself it’s because Hyunwoo still groans from time to time, his side painful. Hoseok tells himself he’s being the bigger man here, the responsible one, but that’d mean Hyunwoo _isn’t_ , and that’s stretching the truth an inch too far.)

They’re having dinner in front of the TV, plates balanced on throw-pillows and their knees, when Hyunwoo says, “Hey, I’ve been, uh, meaning to talk to you about something.”

Hoseok spares a glance at him, still chewing on reheated chow mein. “What is it?”

“It’s about…” Hyunwoo sighs, slightly contrite, “about the break thing you mentioned.”

Hoseok’s never been good at confrontation. Especially with Hyunwoo. “Yeah? What about it,” he asks, going back to his food because it’s a heck of a lot easier than looking at Hyunwoo and the fucking crease in his brow like he’s about to spit his food out all over Hoseok.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Hyunwoo says softly, uncharacteristically so. His fingers have stilled, he’s no longer picking at his food, and when Hoseok looks up at him he’s pointedly looking at the TV.

“You do?” Hoseok asks.

“I’m in no shape to work, not yet,” Hyunwoo says, still frowning. “And it’d be good, to visit my mom for a bit, like you said. I haven’t been home in six months. _We,_ ” he amends quickly, still looking away from Hoseok, “we haven’t been home in months.”

Hoseok wants to spit his food out and yell, _You are my home, you utter dumbfuck_. He doesn’t, though, and instead says, “Yeah, I know. We should give her a call, once we decide on a date.”

Hyunwoo nods, stirring his food. “It could be next weekend? I’ve still got to see Nam about the remaining stitches.” He sighs, heavily, and the frown deepens for a second before his face changes, his expression saddening a little. “I don’t want her to see me with stitches, or bruises, or anything. We could drop by for the weekend and drive up north, to the beach, for the rest of the week.”

“Okay,” Hoseok says softly, nodding. “I’ll talk to the guys, ask them to come water the plants.”

Hyunwoo smiles a little, looking up at Hoseok. “Haven’t given up on Peaceful Lily, yet?”

“Stop calling her that, her name is just Lily,” Hoseok groans, nudging Hyunwoo’s shoulder with his own. “She’s gonna get sad and wilt away and then Hyungwon’s never gonna let me live it down.”

The poor thing needs constant care—it’s almost like having a child. Hyungwon had said a few nights after their conversation, “At least one thing in your life needs to be peaceful, might as well be this little green thing,” and thrust a pot with a mop of green leaves his way. Hoseok had aggressively googled and gone down the depths of fucking Pinterest in order to keep Lily alive and (mostly) green.

Hyunwoo pretends to find it silly that Hoseok keeps referring to a houseplant as if he were talking about a child but Hoseok’s seen him singing to the one tiny white bud that’s managed to survive when he’s waiting for the coffee to be done in the mornings, so he’s one to talk, honestly.

“She’ll be alright without us for a couple of days,” Hyunwoo says around a mouthful of noodles. “Let’s ask Changkyun to check on her, I don’t trust the others, they’re too fucking loud.”

Hoseok’s lips twitch. A lot.

“I’ll talk to them, then.” He reaches over and twines their fingers together, and for the first time in weeks, Hyunwoo’s smile is less stilted and it curves prettily on his face.

He squeezes Hoseok fingers and says, “Next weekend, then? Just you and me.”

“Just you and me,” Hoseok agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell i love nickelback or not yet


End file.
